Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 86751 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 434(@200wpm)___ 347(@250wpm)___ 289(@300wpm)
Why does the thought of either response make me feel oddly possessive about him?
I guide everyone through the end of the flow series, then down onto the floor for a few twists, before it’s time for the pose that ends every yoga class, shavasana, also known as corpse pose.
Outwardly, it’s incredibly simple. All someone needs to do is lie flat on their back, eyes closed, and remain still for the duration, which is usually only five minutes, depending on the class.
It’s many people’s favorite part, a reward for hard work, a chance to relax amidst a hectic day. It has mental, physical, and emotional benefits that stay with a person long after class is over, which is why I’m at first alarmed, and then incredibly irritated when I see Mr. H&C roll onto his side, extract his phone from a pocket—phones are, of course, not allowed in class—and start tapping at his screen.
He’s doing all of this quietly, and no one around him seems to be disturbed, but it’s still incredibly disrespectful.
Moving as quietly as I can, I cross over to him and wave my arms until I get his attention. Brace yourself for this surprise: When he looks up at me, he’s … frowning.
I frown right back at him, shaking my head and slashing a finger across my throat before I silently mouth, “Put your phone away.”
Dividing his attention between me and the screen, he holds up a finger, mouthing back, “Work.” He continues typing away for several more seconds, ignoring my glare, before he finally slips his device back where it came from.
I wait for him to at least have the decency to look apologetic, but instead he simply settles back onto the mat, knees bent, eyes wide open, looking at the ceiling as if he’s counting down the seconds until class is over.
Sure enough, the moment I bring everyone to a sitting position, say a few nice words to the class, and end with a “Namaste,” the man bolts from the room, not even bothering to roll up his lender mat, much less put it back in the closet where it belongs.
When Ana sees him leave, she pouts like a kid who dropped her lollipop. I’m surprised she doesn’t run after him.
“He’s such a hottie,” Marissa says after everyone else has left except for her and Ana.
“He was texting during class, and he left this for me to take care of. He’s a jerk.” I finish rolling up his mat, my mood saltier than all of the sweat on the blue PVC.
“Maybe he’s a high-powered exec,” Ana speculates. “A billionaire who had to jump in to save an international deal from going south right at the last minute.”
“A billionaire? Here in this town? Let me guess … is that what the hero’s like in the book you’re currently reading?”
She shakes her head. “Not my current read, but one of my favorites.”
I shove the mat back onto the shelf along with the set of blocks I gave him but he never used. “Or maybe he’s just an ordinary guy who’s incredibly inconsiderate.”
“You should have given him your number when he had his phone out,” Ana says, completely ignoring me.
“You can’t tell me you don’t think he’s cute,” Marissa says.
“I need someone who’s not just good looking. They have to have a good personality, too.”
Marissa shoots me a sly grin, catching my words before I even realize what I’ve said.
I rush to correct myself. “That’s if I wanted a man. Which I don’t. Not at all.”
CHAPTER 7
CALLIE
It’s always dark when I drive to the health club, and today it’s still dark when I leave to go to Big Daddy’s, even though it’s only mid-morning. The whole region is under the cover of a solid mass of gray clouds, and big drops splatter my windshield as I make my way across town.
From behind the counter of the sandwich shop, I have a great view of the rain, which gradually gets heavier. There’s thunder and lightning for a while too, then things calm down, but the rain remains steady, settling in for the day.
The lunch rush is much lighter than usual, and business is slow after that. So slow, that I’m sent home right at the time we’d usually be busy with dinner orders.
I’m not excited about losing a couple of hours’ pay, but the weather is perfect for crawling under the covers, so I’m smiling when I exit the building, an umbrella handle cradled between my head and shoulder, my phone in hand as I respond to a text from Sadie asking for my opinion on bridesmaid gifts.
There’s a missed call notification from my mom, time-stamped only three minutes ago, and I congratulate myself on having missed it, since it buys me time on having to call her back. But then my phone vibrates with another incoming call from her, and I’m compelled to answer it, because as hyper as she’s been lately, it’s not like her to call twice within minutes, especially when she knows I’m at work.